


be(side) the sea

by liketheroad



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:03:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketheroad/pseuds/liketheroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Spencer grow up on a lonely island by the sea, two against the world, and then comes Jon Walker to make it three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_prologue_

Ryan Ross lived in a house on the hill at the edge of town. The town sat at the edge of the island and the house looked out onto the ocean below. The house had a slanted, not quite collapsed roof and peeling, weather beaten gray paint. The lawn was littered with rusted car parts and piled rotten wood once meant for the wood-stove that kept the house almost warm through the damp winter. The fence surrounding the property was missing posts and wasn't safe to run your hand along as you walked because there were nails sticking out where you wouldn't expect. The house it protected was drafty and dimly-lit and had mice in all seasons and it was Spencer Smith's favorite place in the whole world.

Spencer and his family lived in the newer part of town, nearer the stores and the school, but he could bike to Ryan's house in 12 and a half minutes and he did so every morning in the summer and every afternoon during the school year. He and Ryan had been best friends since they were five and six respectively, since the day Spencer found Ryan lying in the field of grass at the top of the cliff that looked out onto the ocean by Spencer's grandparents house. Spencer had been looking for frogs and found Ryan instead and had always considered it a pretty fair trade. Ryan had almost gotten up to run away, maybe because he wasn't supposed to be there but maybe just because he was Ryan, but something in Spencer's young face had stopped him and Ryan had laid still while Spencer dropped gently down beside him. They hadn't spoken for the whole afternoon while they lay there together watching the clouds but when Ryan finally got up to run home he smiled at Spencer, quick and wide, before he did.

Ryan came back every day that summer and slowly they had learned each other's names and all their other secrets. Ryan had more secrets than Spencer, and his tended to be more serious, but that only made Spencer want to tell Ryan more things, made him want to do more things just so he could tell them to Ryan.

People in town always talked about that awful George Ross and his 'odd little son' and in a town that size there wasn't much else to talk about. But Spencer didn't care what they said and on the first day of school the fall after they met Spencer had been able to prove to Ryan that he didn't. They both got pushed in the mud and laughed at, but it happened to them together and since then, so had pretty much everything else. Ryan didn't trust anyone but he trusted Spencer, Spencer knew he did - not just because Ryan told him his secrets, but because he showed Spencer them too. That was why Ryan's house was Spencer's favorite place to be, he loved it because no one else was allowed, because until Ryan's dad came home late at night, it was a secret between only they two.  


 _Ryan; an introduction_

Ryan was officially referred to as home-schooled, but what that really meant was he read all the books he could get his hands on for as long as there was light enough in the attic to see by. He'd carry a flashlight up there when it was too late, or too stormy, but that attracted his father's attention, which wasn't usually a good thing. Spencer was the only person who could coax Ryan out of there on the times it was safe, was the only thing Ryan considered worth ducking his head out of a book for once and awhile. Spencer could make Ryan go outside, make him walk in the sun and pretend not to hear the things people were whispering about him as they passed by.

Ryan always carried a book with him anyway, wherever he went. Usually he brought two or three, and another blank book to write in, so he always ended up carrying a bag, the big shapeless gray thing he'd found in the attic when he was young. A boy carrying a bag wasn't enough to get noticed most places, but it was still enough where Ryan and Spencer lived. Of course, Ryan would have gotten noticed anyway, with the family he had, and he'd given up waiting for Spencer to be ashamed to be seen with him years ago. He probably would have been able to hold out, except one afternoon when they were 13 Spencer sat on his chest in the middle of the street and shouted, "I'M SPENCER SMITH AND I'M SITTING ON MY STUPID BEST FRIEND RYAN ROSS, ANYONE GONNA TRY AND STOP ME?" and people had laughed, but Spencer had just grinned down at Ryan until Ryan admitted that clearly, he was the one who should be ashamed to be seen with Spencer, the big freak.

Ryan was 17 now and he didn't believe in much and certainly not in people, but he believed in Spencer. Spencer had been with him long enough that Ryan liked to pretend he didn't remember a time Spencer wasn't there, and if he concentrated really hard on it, he could believe lying in that field with Spencer was his first memory. It was better than his real one, hiding under the sink in the dark cupboard, willing his heart and breathing to slow, waiting for his father to stop looking.

Spencer worried about him sometimes, Ryan knew that. He was different than Ryan, he came from a real home and he had lots of people in his life who mattered, who he mattered to, so he didn't always get it that he was enough for Ryan all on his own. But he was more than enough, he was all Ryan wanted, never mind just needed. Other people made his skin prickle when they got too close, other people made his mouth go tight and unhappy whenever they looked at him. He felt pity and suspicion and mockery in every glance and he wanted none of it, he especially wanted no part of people who thought he needed their help to escape his tragic life. He took care of himself just fine, thank you very much, and no one but Spencer seemed to give him any credit, seemed to see anything but the hardships that hung around the edges of Ryan's life. He had a father who was a mean drunk, it was true and Ryan had no problem admitting it. He had a mother who hadn't cared enough to stay and try and protect him, who hadn't even cared enough to try and take him with her. And he lived in what was basically a shack on the edge of a tiny, forgotten little town. So all that was kind of shitty and Ryan got that he had plenty to feel sorry for himself about, plenty to justify the pitying looks that followed him everywhere.

But he also had Spencer. He had Spencer and he wasn't even afraid he was going to lose him, wasn't worried Spencer would stop caring or go away. And he had writing, and books, and a beautiful, lonely walk down to the ocean he could take whenever he wanted because there was basically no one to stop him. He had the sea right there, filling up his lungs and whipping at his cheeks, making him feel solid and alive. He wasn't going places or doing interesting or impressive things, and lots of things in his life hurt beyond even what writing it away could do, but despite everything, always, there was Spencer. Anything else he had to face, anything else other people had that he lived without, none of it seemed like that hard a sacrifice as long as he had Spence.

It was nice to know that Spencer worried about him though. Even if he didn't need to. Even if someday Ryan knew he'd be able to show Spencer he, and he alone, was more than enough.

 

 _the story_

Spencer Smith was on a mission. A mission to find someone – anyone – who understood that Ryan was as awesome as Spencer did. It was proving kind of a tough gig to fill in their town, which pissed Spencer off, although at this stage he was pretty much used to it. Technically he’d been on his mission since he was six years old and frankly he was starting to lose confidence. Not in Ryan but in like… the human population at large.

Or at least he was, until the October day he was walking to Ryan's and saw a scruffy dude taking pictures of the red leaves on the hill approaching Ryan's house. Spencer stopped, small town life making him instinctively suspicious of strangers, especially ones who directed their attention towards anything near Ryan, but the dude heard him and turned, smiling wide.

"Great house, huh?" he said, nodding towards the Ross property. There was fog in the air and the house looked even more forlorn than it usually did, but the guy actually sounded like he meant it. Like he saw the things Spencer saw when he looked at it. The ways Ryan fought to keep the place together, to keep it home.

Still, Spencer shrugged, narrowing his eyes.

The dude smiled again and started to approach Spencer. He held out his hand in a wave, not a shake, saving Spencer from having to decide if he would have been willing to or not.

"I'm Jon. Jonathan Walker. I'm new and no one seems to want to talk to me, but so far that's okay because I don't mind the quiet. Anyway, it's beautiful here, kind of sad in a way that feels good, and I could kind of watch that house all day. I'm not actually a creepy stalker, or at least I don't think I've been here long enough yet to be one, but there's a guy living inside that house and - hey you probably know him cause I get the idea everyone here knows everyone - but have you noticed he's kind of amazing? Seriously, all I saw him do was like... walk up his front steps but he did it like... I don't know, like he was too busy thinking about incredibly important things to worry about where his feet were going, like he trusted his body to get him there. And he was holding notebook and a bag; I liked that for some reason. It looked like he didn't go anywhere without it, like he needed it with him. I'm like that with my camera."

"That's Ryan," Spencer spoke before he could stop himself, his mouth shutting up tight a second too late.

Jon's smile was different this time, less mellow, more focused and alive. He rocked a little on his heels when he repeated softly, "Ryan."

 

*

 

Spencer didn't take Jon in to see Ryan that day, didn't even say another word to Jon about Ryan, but he noticed Jon, finally, in school the next day. He'd missed Jon before because he didn't have the same flurry of gossip surrounding him that new kids usually did. This seemed to be because Jon blended into the walls and any group of people he happened to stand near effortlessly. No one seemed to talk to him, but no one looked at him funny either. He just milled around the small school, dozing through classes and disappearing at lunch. At the end of the day he was loitering against the red fence post at the edge of the school grounds and Spencer found himself walking over to him.

"Hey," he said, not particularly welcoming.

Jon smiled anyway. "Hey Spencer."

Spencer didn't ask how Jon knew his name, they were in all the same classes and he'd gotten called on a few times that day. He glared anyway though, which made Jon smile widen for some reason.

"You've got a great glare," Jon noted in a warm, complimentary fashion.

For a second, Spencer almost felt himself blush. Maybe because it was the kind of compliment Ryan would give.

"Okay," Spencer said because he couldn't think of anything else.

Jon nodded like Spencer had made a normal, appropriate response.

"So you're friends with Ryan, huh?" Jon said, not casually exactly, but totally as though it was no big deal that he seemed to know this without anyone telling him.

He'd seen Spencer go into Ryan's house, granted, but Spencer still chose to be suspicious. He glared some more before he realized possibly Jon would think that meant Spencer was encouraging him. Then he tried to make his face blank like Ryan's.

Jon just clapped his hands together, "Are you doing an impression of him right now?"

Spencer took a startled step backwards, surprise showing clearly on his face.

Jon held up his hands in a non-threatening manner. "I wasn't even looking for him, I was just tagging along with my mom while she did the grocery shopping last night - the lighting is just super weird and interesting in there, have you noticed? But, like I said, totally innocent, but he was there, buying asparagus and peaches, and he had that exact look on his face the entire time."

Spencer swallowed, "We're friends."

Jon winked approvingly. "I sensed you had good taste."

It was right around then that Spencer first considered he might have finally found someone with taste as good as his.

 

*

 

He worked up to it with Ryan. Took a whole two weeks from the day he met Jon to fully vet him, to check for secret, well-hidden lameness. It was almost more suspicious that Jon didn't seem to have any. Spencer was better about people than Ryan, who had more reason to distrust, but he still tended to be wary, and wasn't used to finding people who weren't Ryan that he simply liked. But Jon was endlessly easy to be around, he never let silences get awkward, he never made Spencer do all the work in a conversation. He was funny and seemed to almost always be in a good mood, which Spencer guessed was a pretty decent start to treating people well. Jon never seemed pissed or hurt just by having other people around him, and it went a long way towards making him good company. Not that Spencer had any problem with Ryan and the way he was, Ryan held himself together pretty well and didn't let bitterness direct his life. He was just closed off. It was understandable, but it was still a change Spencer found himself liking, being with Jon. Being with someone who seemed endlessly fascinated and delighted by the world instead of threatened and suspicious of it.

He was almost worried about it, actually, how much he liked Jon. He wasn't used to liking anyone but Ryan that much, and Jon was new and hadn't done as much to prove his worth. It was also possible, which was weird because Spencer wasn't used to being jealous of Ryan, that he was just a bit jealous of how much Jon seemed to like Ryan. Considering they hadn't actually met, and all.

Still, the whole point of the Jon exercise was supposed to be about showing Ryan he didn't just deserve good things, but that he could actually have them too. And that those good things didn't have to revolve solely around Spencer. It was kind of a scary lesson to try and teach, Spencer was discovering, especially now that he felt like he had two people worryingly important to him on the line at once. But he wasn't going to stand by and let another thing be denied Ryan, not just because of some worrying butterflies in his stomach.

Plus, Jon was so excited when Spencer told him he was taking him to meet Ryan. He grinned and then thanked Spencer, and the sincerity in his voice did a funny tight thing to Spencer's chest, but he smiled back and then said, carefully, "Just don't except too much. He's not like most people."

Jon made a face and shook his head, asking, "Isn't that the whole point?"

It was a pretty good reminder of why he was doing this in the first place, and Spencer nodded, leading them in the direction of Ryan's house.

They didn't knock on Ryan's door because no one ever came to Ryan's door except Spencer and Spencer had grown out of thinking he needed to knock when he was about seven. Back then, Ryan's house felt more like their clubhouse than anything else, and he'd used a secret knock, but the first time he'd arrived at Ryan's door only to peek in the front window and see Ryan shaking his father's collapsed figure on the floor, Spencer learned to rush in and make sure Ryan was okay first thing. Manners were pretty much secondary to his cause.

Still, he was bringing a guest this time. He'd warned Ryan about it, sweet talked him about this new guy who took pictures and liked good music, but he'd had to walk a careful balance. He'd wanted to convince Ryan Jon was cool, but to do that without making it sound like Spencer thought he was cooler than Ryan, like Spencer was trading up in the friend food chain or some shit. It was the kind of thing he had to be worried about with someone as clueless as Ryan was. So Spencer didn't knock, but he did shout, "Ry! We're here," louder than was strictly necessary as soon as they walked in the door.

Ryan wasn't in sight, but Spencer heard the customary scuffling around upstairs that either meant Ryan was writing and forget they were coming or he just wanted to make it sound like he was busy until the second he got interrupted. Jon sneaked a smile at Spencer, like he was guessing the same things.

Spencer looked away from Jon, trying to get the slightly dopey smile off his face as he heard Ryan coming down the stairs. He watched Ryan step carefully over the broken 8th step and a different smile came onto his face. One for Ryan alone.

Ryan smiled back, easy for Spencer like he always was. Then his eyes shifted to Jon and Ryan's face shielded him with careful blankness, his arms coming up to cross over his chest.

Him and Jon sort of faced off like that, Ryan standing stiff and indifferent, Jon just watching him, a careful, cataloging look in his eyes. Spencer thought it was about time for him to step in, to make introductions, when Jon took a step forward on his own. He approached Ryan slowly, a small smile growing on his face.

He held out a hand, again not to shake, but this time to touch, and Spencer was shocked when Ryan let him. Jon put a careful hand on Ryan's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze hello. Ryan's eyes fixed on Jon's hand like he couldn't believe he was allowing it to stay there either. Then Jon let go and released his smile, letting it grow into the huge grin it so obviously wanted to all along.

"Hey Ryan, I'm Jon. I'm so glad to meet you." It was nothing Jon said, but how he said it, so honest and sincere, and not even Ryan could miss it.

He still looked startled, but less suspicious. Like he suspected Jon was a good thing but can't quite reconcile that.

Jon's smile softened but stayed open and warm. "You'll see why. We're going to do great things together."

For a second before Ryan's face turned protectively neutral again, he honestly looked like he believed him.

 

*

 

The most shocking thing about that afternoon, and the afternoons that followed, was how quickly Jon wiped the wary skepticism off Ryan's face. He managed it almost effortlessly, although Spencer suspected there was a lot of care going into the charming nonchalance. Either way, Jon's casual, smiling ignorance of Ryan's discomfort worked like a really unexpected charm. Jon was gentle with Ryan, but... if it was possible, he was gently pushy, getting into Ryan's space, into his head. He asked Ryan questions Ryan actually wanted to answer, drew him into conversation by actually knowing the kinds of things Ryan couldn't shut up about given the chance. Jon also had the advantage of honestly seeming like he wanted to hear Ryan's answers, like he was enjoying hearing Ryan ramble about 18th Century literature as much as Ryan was enjoying rambling about it. Spencer had expected to have to do a lot of bridging, translating between when Ryan said and what he meant on one side and helping Ryan believe that Jon could be trusted to mean what he said on the other. As it turned out, he wasn't particularly necessary in that regard. Ryan and Jon clicked onto the same frequency about 20 minutes into their first meeting and in the days and weeks that followed, they seemed completely locked into each other. The three of them spent cold afternoons shut up in Ryan's house, sitting around the old kitchen table with mugs of hot chocolate, talking about music from the 60s and which bands they most wanted to travel back in time to see. On crisp Sunday mornings they would go out walking, bundled up in wool sweaters and half gloves, walking along the cliff overlooking the ocean and breathing warm air into their hands. They would stop while Jon took pictures, watching him find beauty and novelty in the places they'd grown so accustomed to they barely registered anymore. The air felt different when Jon was there to breathe it with them, felt fresher and more alive. Jon constantly insisted that their home was the most beautiful place on earth, that the sea air was the most exhilarating his lungs had ever taken in. His enthusiasm infected even Ryan, and together the three of them found themselves tearing down hills, shouting at the tops of their lungs with their hands in the air, found themselves pulling apart sticky buns at 6 in the morning, getting up just so they could eat them hot and fresh. They found themselves laughing from nothing but their happiness.

Occasionally Spencer would feel a pang, watching Jon coax smiles onto Ryan's face, seeing Ryan huddle against Jon's chest, tucked under the crook of his arm while they stood at the edge of the sea, shouting exuberant nonsense against the wind. Jon's presence seemed to make Ryan more beautiful, make his smiles more bright, his eyes dance. Spencer knew it was just that Ryan was happy, maybe happier than he'd ever been, and he tried to be grateful for it, tried to remember he had helped Ryan have this. That he was still a part of it.

And it wasn't as though he was ignored. Jon pulled Spencer into headlocks that somehow made Spencer laugh as he tried to squirm away. He took pictures of the wind in Spencer's hair and smiled at him exactly like he saw everything Spencer was and found none of it wanting. He tried to show Spencer how to take pictures, to see and capture things in their fragile, candid beauty, and he ruffled Spencer's hair approvingly when Spencer showed him his efforts. They had time alone at school each day, and even though Spencer was acutely aware of how much of that time they both spent wishing only for Ryan, they shared plenty of moments that were just for the two of them. Jon had somehow convinced Spencer to join the school band, and even though it took an extra hour three days a week out of their Ryan time, Spencer was secretly grateful for it. In band Jon and Spencer found something special between them alone, they let the music grow inside them and found their own secret language in it.

As for Ryan and Spencer, well, they were still Ryan and Spencer. Spencer was happy, almost all of the time he was happy that Ryan had found someone else to believe in, to trust himself with, but Spencer wasn't fooling himself into thinking that meant Ryan didn't need him. He wasn't about to erase a lifetime to friendship and dependence just because a scared, insecure part of himself kept insisting he'd just been keeping Ryan warm, keeping him safe until Jon arrived. It was easy to ignore these fears, the ones that crept back to him when he was lying alone in the dark, while he was actually with Ryan. Easy because every so often, maybe in the middle of a laugh Jon had elicited, or an adventure he'd somehow convinced them to embark on, Ryan would simply look at Spencer, look at him and he'd tilt his head communicating with Spencer in their own, silent language. He'd look at Spencer and Spencer would remember how much Ryan needed him, how much of what Jon accomplished was only possible because Spencer was there too, because Spencer had always been there. It felt like a betrayal, almost, the times he couldn't quite believe it. Because Ryan hadn't done anything to deserve such a failure of trust and knowing this, Spencer fought it every inch of the way.

Ryan was a constant. Spencer wasn't just that for him, they were a foundation for each other, and it helped that Spencer wasn't the only one practiced at showing it. One afternoon in early November, when only a few determined leaves were still managing to cling to the cold tree branches and Ryan and Spencer were alone for once because Jon had taken the ferry into the city with his mother, Ryan linked his fingers with Spencer's as they walked, squeezing his hand tightly and reflected, "I'm glad he's ours, it wouldn't be any good if he wasn't ours."

Spencer didn't have to ask who Ryan was talking about, but he felt a smile settle onto his face as he squeezed back.

 

*

 

Jon can back from his excursion to the mainland with presents. For Ryan he brought a long, silky gray scarf that Ryan immediately wrapped himself in, sighing peacefully and nestling his face into it. For Spencer Jon had bought new drum sticks (the school provided a set but they weren't very good and the town didn't have a music store) and a brown paper bag filled with penny candy. Spencer eyed the new sticks lovingly and stuck a fuzzy peach in his mouth, his thank-you to Jon coming out garbled around the candy.

Jon laughed and stole a piece out of the bag to feed to Ryan. Ryan took the sour cherry right out of Jon's fingers and Spencer's squawk of protest was a good 30 seconds delayed by his open-mouthed distraction, watching Ryan's tongue flick out to catch a trace of sugar from Jon's thumb.

Fighting down a blush and hoping the others would blame it on indignation he managed, "Hey that's mine!"

Ryan smiled smugly and stuck out his tongue, revealing the candy resting half-dissolved upon it. "Take it back then," he teased, and for a second Spencer felt his heart lurch in his chest. What the fuck, was Ryan flirting with him?

He stammered a completely unconvincing, "Gross," and then stuck another candy in his mouth just to give himself something to do.

Jon smiled a knowing, approving little smile and then patted Spencer on the back consolingly. "Don't worry Spencer, there's more than enough to go around."

Spencer didn't really believe a single one of them thought Jon was talking about the candy.

 

*

 

Jon's parents owned a sailboat. He mentioned this casually one afternoon, an afterthought tacked onto a story he was telling about his older brother. Seeing Spencer and Ryan's shocked, awed faces, Jon smiled and shrugged his patented 'no big deal' shrug. Jon's parents didn't seem to work and until that point Spencer had assumed they'd made the classic mainlander blunder. Falling in love with the ocean and the cliffs, their infatuation blinding them to the dismal job market, the inching, determined poverty. It had seemed to him a particularly irresponsible thing to do when you had two teenage children, but if they were able to keep up a sailboat that could hold its own on the Atlantic there had to be another explanation. Jon answered the confusion on Spencer's face before he had to bother thinking of a way to phrase the question.

"It's not a particularly interesting story. Pretty typical really, as far as things like this go. It's old money. Like... passed down generations of lucky, aimless Walkers. They play around at having jobs sometimes, or do charity work, but it never really sticks." There was no condemnation in Jon's voice. "They get bored so we move around a lot, but it's usually good. Always having them around. It's nice to have that, have your family with you." His soft smile was for Ryan. A gesture, maybe an apology. "I'm really lucky."

Instead of tensing up, Ryan just smiled. Since Jon, since getting Jon and still getting to keep Spencer, Ryan was beginning to believe he was lucky too.

 

*

 

Of course there wasn't really much they could actually do with the sailboat, not in November at any rate, but Jon's parents were cool with them just going on it and hanging out in the cabin below, which they began to do with rapidly increasing frequency upon discovering its existence. Even though they couldn't actually go anywhere, Spencer felt like he could taste the freedom the boat offered, just being on it. If Ryan's eagerness to spend time there was any indication, he felt the same. For his part, Jon seemed delighted to be able to offer the two of them something, as if his friendship and presence wasn't gift enough. And, not growing up there, Jon didn't have the same attachment to Ryan's house. It fascinated him, and he respected Ryan and Spencer's connection to it, but Spencer suspected Jon didn't feel particularly safe there. Didn't feel Ryan was particularly safe there. It was different for Spencer, but even he had trouble arguing with that line of thinking. And Jon's boat didn't hold the same history, so Spencer could see why Jon preferred it there for that reason as well. It was bound to be less intimidating, less isolating, spending time in a place relatively new to all three of them instead of a home steeped in Ryan and Spencer's tightly joined history. Spencer found himself enjoying the boat for that reason instead of simply putting up with it for Jon's sake. It was nice, special, to be making a new place for the three of them together.

 

*

 

They were in the boat, which Jon kept threatening to rename the Spencer Ross, tucked below in the cabin the first time it happened. And by it, Spencer meant Ryan falling asleep, first on Jon's shoulder and then slowly slipping down onto his lap. For a second, just as it happened, Jon's face went through a spasm of shocked joy, pure and simple, before he caught Spencer watching and his face shifted to sheepish, almost guilty. Spencer got the reaction. He almost felt the jealously that should go with it, but instead, he felt amazement and a strange, low level sense of pride.

Jon's face shifted again, questioning, and Spencer answered him first with a contented smile.

"You're the first person I've ever seen him fall asleep with, other than me. I've never seen him relax like that with anybody else around. Including a school trip to Boston that involved an 18 hour bus ride."

"Yeah?" Jon asked, his voice ending in a slight, hopeful crack.

Spencer nodded, happy to tell Jon this, glad to trust him with this secret. "Yeah."

Jon smiled, first for Spencer, and then, even more tenderly, down at Ryan.

Spencer heard himself say, "Go on," and even though he didn't really know what he was telling Jon to do, Jon seemed to.

He reached down and ran his fingers, nice and slow, through Ryan's hair, over and over, smoothing Ryan's bangs away from his face. Ryan stirred slightly in his sleep but didn't wake, the only noise he made was a low, contented hum.

In that moment, Spencer knew that someone else loved Ryan as much as he did. It was something he'd always hoped for, but it made it even happier than he'd ever expected, knowing it was Jon.

 

*

 

After that, personal space became something as foreign to Ryan and Jon as it always had been to Ryan and Spencer. Jon seemed a little shyer about sharing Spencer's space and Spencer didn't feel entirely ready to insert himself into Jon's, but he watched Jon's progress with Ryan with warm, approving anticipation. They didn't talk about what was happening, and really, so far it wasn't much, but it wasn't discomfort that stayed their tongues, or even shyness. It all just seemed... far too natural, too inevitable even, to need to be remarked upon. They continued to spend every available minute in each other's company. Still laughed together, still spent hours talking of nothing or reading in companionable silence. They still went on long, aimless walks while the wind whipped at their hair and Jon took pictures of twigs in frozen puddles and hore-frost on the sagging tree branches. Ryan still lived very much in Spencer's pocket, tucking against his side as they walked and grabbing his hand to squeeze for emphasis while they were talking. He just... did those things with Jon now too and Spencer was finding more and more that he didn't mind sharing, not when it was with Jon.

 

*

 

In early December, Ryan started wearing lip balm. It wasn't anything particularly new or surprising, by that stage of winter everyone was suffering from the cold. Spencer's cheeks appeared perpetually flushed from the wind burn singeing his cheeks and Jon's hands were cracked and rough because he always insisted wearing gloves ruined his ability to take pictures. Ryan's issue was dry, chapped lips and it was only logical that he addressed the problem. He'd done it before, nearly every winter Spencer had known him. What he hadn't done, ever before, was follow Spencer around, smacking his lips at Spencer and fluttering his eye lashes, laughing at Spencer's confused, "Get away from me you freak," protests.

One day, Ryan went so far as to chase Spencer around the kitchen of his house, his laugh completely ruining the legitimacy of his plaintive chant. "Don't you love me Spence?" A giggle. "Spence, Spencer, don't you love me?"

Spencer was seriously concerned that if Ryan got close enough to him, he was going to put those pointy fingers to use and start tickling. Busy as he was trying to avoid this fate and to concentrate on something other than the subtle shimmer on Ryan's lips, it took Spencer quite awhile to notice Jon, sitting in the corner of the room, a smug, satisfied smile on his face. It was in that moment that Spencer realized that all Ryan's strange, almost flirty behavior hadn't just come out of nowhere. It was then he realized that it was actually, somehow how and all along, Jon's doing. Like Jon had been... giving Ryan lessons or something.

Spencer immediately stopped and pointed a shocked, accusatory finger at Jon, and maybe it was Spencer's face, or maybe it was how Ryan skidded into Spencer, practically knocking them both over when he misjudged the distance between them following Spencer's unexpected surrender, but Jon burst out laughing. Spencer tried to maintain his indignation, wagging his finger severely, but this just made Jon laugh harder, and soon Spencer was helplessly joining in. When he calmed himself down slightly, he turned around to face Ryan, who was smiling softly, almost absently, like he got the joke but his mind was still focused on other things.

"Spence," he spoke in almost a whisper, his voice gentle, almost coy. He lifted his eyes up throw his lashes, "Don't you love me?"

Spencer stuttered for a second but before he had a second to form real words Ryan was reaching up, his hand coming to claim hold of Spencer's neck and then he was guiding Spencer's face up to meet his and they were kissing. Soft and exploratory, neither of them really knowing what to do. It was Spencer's first kiss, and Ryan's too. It was theirs. Despite his lack of expertise, Spencer was rapidly losing himself to the kiss, to Ryan, the rest of the world was melting away and it had almost disappeared completely when he was jarred back into awareness by the slight scraping of a chair against the hardwood floor. Ryan's eyes shot open a second after Spencer's did and they turned together, watching Jon try to ease silently out of the room.

He smiled at them like it was alright, like he'd known this was coming, like he was happy for them.

They got between him and the door as fast as they could. Ryan's fingers closed around Jon's wrist and Spencer shook his head, serious and decisive.

"Don't even think about it mister," Spencer warned him, just this side of sharply.

Ryan didn't say anything, but his fingers closed more tightly around Jon's wrist.

With his free hand, Jon ran his fingers roughly through his hair, "I'm trying to let you have your moment here guys,"

Ryan shook his head, "Our moment Jon," and Spencer followed it up with a determined nod.

It was almost enough, Spencer could see how for Jon that much would be enough, but he wanted Jon to know he deserved more than that from them. That they wanted to give him more than that. So he smiled and straightened the collar of Jon's sweater, saying, "Ryan's not the only one I love, you know."

At that, Jon's face transformed into a blinding, helpless grin, his eyes lit up hopeful and bright, "Oh yeah?"

Spencer wouldn't have thought it possible, but he felt his smile and his happiness grow, "Yeah."

"Me too Jon," Ryan said, tugging on Jon's wrist a little. "Me too."

Jon laughed, triumphant and pleased, and said, "I know I've mentioned it before, but I'm really fucking glad I moved here."

There was nothing to do but keep smiling and pull Jon close, to join Jon's lips with his and there, standing in Ryan's lonely, rundown kitchen, Spencer had his second kiss and then watched, proud and joyful, as Ryan had his.

 

*

 

Even after that, nothing really changed, and it wasn't particularly weird. Mostly it was just... well, nice. Really nice. Okay, really really fucking nice but it wasn't strange, was the point. It didn't feel dramatic or even all that new. Like all the other little progressions they'd made along the way, this thing, the kissing, the holding each other close and whispering promises they already knew they were making aloud? It was just another step along the way they'd tacitly agreed to long ago, maybe as long ago as that first time Spencer met Jon, really. That was the beginning to letting Jon in, and every move since then has just been one closer to letting him in entirely, to becoming one in three instead of two.

The only change that was noticeable, or that Spencer really cared about, was how happy Ryan seemed. Spencer had always been able to make Ryan happy, and having Jon with them had made him happier still, but this, having them both together in this new way, it seemed to be filling Ryan up, happiness brimming out his eyes and down to his toes. He laughed more easily, he teased and fuck, still flirted in the sweet, strange inexpert way he'd learned from watching Jon, from Jon's sly instruction. Best of all Ryan did those things with confidence, with something almost passing for gleeful bravado. Spencer didn't mind that he hadn't been able to accomplish that in Ryan by himself, wasn't jealous or bitter that he alone hadn't been enough. On the contrary, he was proud, and endlessly grateful, that he'd been able to achieve this transformation with Jon, the two of them together.

It helped too, that being with Jon, having him and keeping this new, shinier, happier Ryan at the same time, made Spencer fucking happy himself. He'd never had the same problems as Ryan, not for himself, but he'd been helping Ryan carry them for years. It was thrilling, exhilarating, to have that load so greatly lessened, both by having someone else sharing it, and by making it feel lighter through the happiness he brought. When Spencer kissed Ryan it felt like the culmination of a thousand promises, like coming home, like sparks setting off deep in his chest that had laid dormant and in waiting for years. With Jon there was always a tingling shock, a moment where Spencer couldn't believe he was finding himself where he was, with his lips against this strange person who fit so neatly, so perfectly against him. Spencer would sit, holding Ryan's hand and watching Jon tip Ryan's head back in a deepening kiss and when Ryan's fingers would dig unexpectedly into Spencer's palm in a spasm of excitement, Spencer knew Ryan felt it too.

 

*

 

Spencer was getting so used to being happy and having good things happen to him he was honestly surprised when Jon came back to them bloody. He and Ryan had been waiting for Jon down at the pier, squinting out at the horizon and holding hands, not caring who might see. There had been whispers, sideways glances that were nastier than usual, comments overheard at school, but they'd been reckless like that for weeks, too caught up in each other and their happiness to be careful, to pay attention to anything but each other. And to Jon.

They'd honestly never expected Jon to be the one to pay for it.

It was just a swollen lip, scuffed up jeans and shoes from when they'd shoved him in the dirt, his navy blue hoodie torn and hanging off his shoulder, lopsided. Some part of Spencer's mind saw that and thought, 'that's all, he's alright,' but it wasn't the part that gasped and almost made him throw up into the gravel at his feet. And if Ryan had a part of himself telling him the same thing, telling him Jon would be okay, it wasn't the part that made him sink to the ground, landing roughly on his knees and saying, "No no, not Jon, no," in a kneeing whimper.

Jon wiped his still bleeding lip with his thumb and moved somewhat gingerly to kneel down to eye level with Ryan.

"Hey, hey I'm right here, I'm right here Ryan." His voice carried a trace of a command and Ryan looked up, meeting Jon's eyes.

Jon touched Ryan's chin, keeping their eyes together. "I'm fine Ry, swear. Just a little roughed up, but still here. You understand? Still here."

Someone else, someone new, might have wondered why Jon kept repeating that. But Spencer knew. Ryan hadn't been much trouble for Jon yet, hadn't cost him much of anything yet. Happy as he'd been, excited as he'd been, he'd never had to put Jon's trust in him to the test. Not like this.

Ryan tried to smile, he could hear the message just as clear as Spencer and he tried to smile for Jon, to show him Ryan understood, but he only managed a watery half-smile. He did force out, "Okay Jon," but it was shaky, unsure.

Jon smiled, careful of his lip, and leaned in so their foreheads touched, "Don't you want to kiss it better?"

Spencer saw Ryan try to spasm back, but Jon held on. Jon didn't let Ryan go. He kept his hold, loose but firm, until Ryan relaxed against him and smiled a real smile, a hopeful smile, before placing the lightest ghost of a kiss against Jon's lips. They held each other close, held each other's eyes, for a moment more before Jon got up, pulling Ryan up with him.

Then Jon came to Spencer, tilting his head in a familiar way that Spencer almost couldn't place for a second. Then it hit him, he'd seen that move before, but less fluid, less subtle. He'd seen it on Ryan, trying out Jon's moves. He almost laughed. Jon smiled at Spencer's recognition and then took another step forward.

"I think that almost did it but we should be sure, we wouldn't want to accidentally leave my lip broken."

Somehow, at that, Spencer did laugh. "No we definitely can't have that." Ryan tucked himself behind Spencer, hovering close, keeping look out while Spencer leaned in and did his part, following Ryan's lead and kissing Jon quick and soft.

Jon stepped back, his smile wider, less careful now. "My heroes."


	2. equals four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trio leave the island to go to College and, while there, find Brendon.

Despite being a year older and having never actually taken a step into a classroom, Ryan graduated with Spencer and Jon. He'd taken a mass of advanced placement courses by correspondence to slow his completion of high school and to bump up his transcript for colleges. It also helped that he had SAT scores that bordered on scary, attracting scholarships and acceptances from colleges across the country. In the end of course, Ryan opted to go to the same university as Spencer and Jon. It wasn't as good as some of the schools Ryan had gotten into, but when Spencer noted this Ryan simply rolled his eyes and said, "Like I care about that anyway." Spencer had wanted Ryan with them too badly to argue further.

Ryan's father didn't come to graduation and he didn't come to see them off at the airport either. Spencer and Jon's parents and siblings tried to make themselves larger and more boisterous to make up for it. Ryan smiled, letting them know he was grateful for the effort, and he hugged Spencer's mom extra long good-bye.

As they were walking through security alone Spencer asked Ryan with his eyes if Ryan was actually okay. Ryan smiled at Spencer, and then at Jon, and nodded. Once they were past security he elaborated.

"I'm taking the good memories I have of him with me." He shrugged his backpack higher up on his shoulders. "That's usually easier to do without him around anyway."

Spencer nodded, a bit sharply as he reminded himself not to say anything else, to let Ryan have that. Jon had a little less practice with that, putting up with Ryan's dad and all he denied Ryan, but he restrained himself to a quick squeeze of Ryan's shoulder. Ryan's small smile to both of them was part thank you, part reassurance and they accepted it silently as they boarded the plane.

\---

Despite his scores, Ryan was nervous about college. They'd given themselves two weeks to set up in the condo just off campus Jon's parents had insisted on buying for them, and Ryan spent nearly that whole time working himself up into a state of paralyzing terror that he was going to be found out in some way.

"I'm a fraud!" he'd shout, totally serious and apparently unaware of how ludicrous he sounded. Not to mentioned looked, standing in the middle of a room, his fist raised in the air, newsboy cap slightly lopsided on his head.

Jon and Spencer did what they could do to calm him down, hands and mouths, and when that didn't work - music. That summer Jon and Spencer had pooled their resources to buy Ryan a guitar, something to accompany Jon's bass and Spencer's drums to their new home. Spencer had long ago gotten over his desire to keep music - playing music - something between only Jon and himself. It had grown to feel prickly, wrong, having something, loving it, but not sharing it with Ryan. Ryan had never said he felt left out, but when they gave him the guitar something wild and proud flashed in his eyes, as though he'd passed some final test. He'd thrown himself into the task of learning the instrument with single-minded dedication that summer. While his playing was far from perfect, the instrument fit with him. The music it made so clearly the type Ryan was meant to play that it came out raw and sweet, something better, deeper than any perfectly played set of chords could ever sound.

When nothing else could calm Ryan down, bring him back to himself, back to them, playing the guitar always would.

\---

It seemed nesting was another thing that did wonders for Ryan's inner calm. In the days before their classes started, Ryan got Spencer and Jon up early every morning to buy fabric to make curtains and coordinated bath and hand towels for the bathroom. He never left the house without coming home with at least one plant, usually sickly ones he'd gotten for almost nothing that he tended to obsessively until they began to perk back up. He got everything as cheaply as he could, drawing from the bank account that was filled with his scholarship and the money Jon and Spencer's parents had put in surreptitiously as a graduation gift.

Once upon a time Ryan would have refused such money, but since Jon, in the two years they'd had Jon, Ryan had come to expect a lot more, to understand that there was no reason to refuse the help that was offered if you knew you could trust the people offering it. If you knew they were doing it out of love. As far as their parents or the world at large knew, Ryan and Jon were dating and Spencer was their supportive and close friend. It had bothered Ryan a great deal, arranging themselves that way, leaving Spencer out, but Spencer had been the one to decide, to put his foot down about it. There had been too many whispers, too much suspicion in the town, close as all three of them were, and having Jon and Ryan's relationship go public had made the most sense. Spencer's closeness to Ryan (and by extension Jon) was better explained by his years of friendship with Ryan, growing up closer than brothers.

Even now, away from all that history, from the small town prejudices that had haunted them, they felt it best to carry on largely in that manner. It was the best they could do as far as either set of parents went, and beyond that, they were happy to be perceived as a group of very close friends. Jon was more optimistic, but neither Spencer nor Ryan really expected to be making that many friends in college anyway. They had Jon, and each other. It was more than enough.

\---

On the first day of classes however, not even guitar playing and amateur botany were going to calm Ryan down. Spencer made eggs but not because Ryan would actually eat them, just because he needed something to do. Also Jon liked eggs, but even Jon wasn't really up to eating that morning. Ryan's good mood was neither obvious nor infectious.

Spencer had learned that sometimes it was best to leave Ryan alone when he got like that, to let him ride out his anxiety until he could realize it was over nothing, or at least over nothing he could control. Not having the dubious benefit of Spencer's extra years of experience, Jon hadn't yet learned such patience.

He went over to Ryan and began a gentle but persistent shoulder rub, saying, "What's this really about Ry? I haven't seen you this worked up in years."

There was this thing Jon did, that thing, where he sort of took on Spencer and Ryan's history, talked about it as if he had been there with them, years before he actually had. Spencer supposed that if it was anyone else it would have bothered him, but he liked it with Jon. It made those years seem less lonely in his memory, made him feel more closely connected with Jon. The way Ryan sighed and leaned into Jon's touch, his eyes closing almost peacefully was sign enough that Ryan agreed. He certainly never spoke up against Jon when he talked like that, just smiled at him softly and let him continue.

"Ry?" Jon pressed, digging a hand into Ryan's left shoulder, eliciting a deep groan of satisfaction.

"I just want to be good. At it. I have to be."

Jon kept massaging, clearly trying to sort out Ryan's words.

"Why?" Spencer asked the right question.

Ryan's shoulders didn't shrug under Jon's hands but his face did. "If I don't do well I'll have to leave."

Jon let go of Ryan, and Spencer guessed it was because Jon didn't trust his hands at the moment. The way he wrung them compulsively as he tried to think of something to say in response confirmed it for Spencer.

"Ryan, you know that even if... even if somehow you didn't do well or didn't like university - that wouldn't mean you couldn't stay. The only way you'd have to leave was if you didn't want to be here anymore." Jon was clearly trying to sound confident, but his voice was coming out slightly pleading.

Ryan shook his head, "But my scholarship, if I dropped out, or if my grades slipped too low, I'd lose it."

Jon looked at him blankly. "So?"

Spencer held in a sigh. Some things, no matter how smart he was about the rest, Jon just didn't get.

"It's the only way I contribute, the only money I have that makes it a little bit okay that I'm living here pretty much for free."

Jon scrubbed his face in frustration. "Ryan - the money is nothing, it doesn't matter -"

Spencer cut to the chase. "You matter."

Jon slumped down in the chair beside Ryan, nodding in emphatic relief that Spencer had said it right.

Just as Jon was calming down though, Spencer felt himself getting seriously upset. He took the eggs off the stove and paced around the kitchen, trying to work out his frustration before he took it out on Ryan. It was just... Ryan had come so far in the last couple years. So far. They were supposed to be past shit like this.

"Ryan," he heard himself say, stern and a little sharp. "Come on, Ryan, you know better than that. We love you, we need you here. That's why we're here, you know that. Not just for school, but... to be together, to make a life together, the three of us."

Ryan looked up at him and Spencer thought, oh. Oh.

Of course. Trust Ryan to hide the things worth being scared about in the things that weren't.

On Ryan's other side, Jon had gotten there too.

"I know it's not the same, that this is a bigger thing, harder to be sure about but... we know we love each other, we know we want to win, to succeed together. That's all we have to go on, that and the years we've already had together. Learning each other. Ryan, none of us would be here if we didn't think the other two were worth the risk. If we didn't think what the three of us have, what we could have, was worth it."

Spencer didn't add anything. Jon had said it just fine.

Ryan dipped his head. "I know that. I do."

Spencer walked over, sat down, touching Ryan's hand gently with his own. "But?"

Ryan shrugged. "I still get scared. I have too much now, I'm... I'm not saying it was easier or better and Spencer - there was always you - but. It's hard knowing how much I have to lose."

Jon and Spencer didn't reply, they simply linked their hands with Ryan's and held on tight.

\---

Spencer and Ryan had their first class together. Ryan was planning on majoring in English Lit and Spencer had vague notions of doing a year of undergrad before transferring his credits to the culinary school the university was partnered with, and Jon was setting himself up to major in music theory, which apparently Ryan respected more or something since he was forcing Spencer to take classes with him and leaving Jon to do whatever he wanted. Not that Spencer actually minded. He'd never been in a classroom with Ryan before. Which, granted, was because Ryan had never been in a classroom in general, but still. It was nice to be catching up on some missed opportunities there.

For the first 20 minutes of their 40 minute class, Ryan sat slouched down and tense, watching the prof nervously like he was waiting for her to notice him and kick him out. She didn't of course, and once she launched from her introduction and explanation of the syllabus into the actual course material Ryan perked up like he couldn't help himself. Five minutes into her discussion of the first novel they were going to be reading, Ryan had a dreamy, euphoric expression on his face and was literally watching her with his chin in his hands. Spencer held in a laugh, which was mostly just giddy happiness, seeing Ryan like that, and tried to focus on the lecture. Once it was over and the other students were starting to mill around, gathering their books, Spencer had to actually grab Ryan by the elbow and pull him up out of his desk.

"Come on, Ry, we have a spare for the next two periods."

Ryan looked reluctant, readying to pout. He eyed the professor longingly.

Spencer rolled his eyes and patted Ryan reassuringly. "Don't worry, we'll be back on Wednesday, I promise. This isn't actually our only class ever. I'll even let you stay and ask her five million questions about the book when class is over if you want."

Ryan looked positively blissful at the possibility. He was clutching the book to his chest.

Spencer gave Ryan's arm another tug. "Seriously though, let's go to the cafeteria. Remember how we said we'd go to the cafeteria during our break? Ryan, just think - Jon's going to be there."

That brought some of the focus back to Ryan's eyes. "Jon?" he said, brightening suddenly.

Spencer gave in and laughed, and then hugged Ryan to his side, just a little. "Yeah. Let's go find him."

They found Jon pretty easily, despite the throng of people. It was easy because Jon was standing on the table of the cafeteria, singing a song that sounded suspiciously like it was off the soundtrack of Aladdin with some dude wearing a lavender hoodie and... what looked like bright red glasses. Which, what?

At his side, Spencer felt Ryan tense up all over again.

"What the fuck." Ryan whispered, his voice flat. Spencer hadn't heard Ryan sound like that in awhile. He hadn't missed it.

Spencer wanted to help Ryan calm down, he really did, but what wasn't really helping him do that was that he seemed to have suddenly gone crazy. He trusted Jon, what the fuck, of course he did and this wasn't anything - Jesus, were they holding hands?

"Spencer," Ryan said, his voice like a low plea, digging his fingers into Spencer's side. Spencer could hear the rest of Ryan's thought clearly enough. Make him stop doing that.

It got through, finally, through the strange jealous haze Spencer had momentarily lost his sanity in, and he grabbed Ryan's hands and pulled him through the crowd until they were close enough that he could say, "Jon!" and be heard without sounding like he was just yelling like a crazy person. A jealous crazy person who may or may not have been holding onto Ryan's hand really hard.

It helped a little bit when Jon instantly dropped the guy's hand and stopped singing mid word to beam down at them upon their arrival. When he jumped down off the table and hugged them both at once, that helped a lot.

"Guys," he said all warm and Jon-like, "This is Bden, he was in my classical composition class--" Bden piped up, "Say that six times fast," making Jon grin, before he continued, "He's totally awesome."

This introduction helped... less, but Brendon sort of undid most of his unwelcome by bouncing involuntarily and saying, "You're Ryan and Spencer! I know it's only been like 15 minutes since we weren't in class but I assure you Jon has managed to talk about you guys A LOT in that time. He can talk pretty fast when he gets going although I bet not as fast as me, we should have a contest sometime to test that though! Anyway, he was saying how amazing it was meeting you guys and how moving to the island and finding you both there opened his eyes up to a whole new world and then we sort of got to talking about Disney and well-" He laughed and shrugged. "You saw how that turned out."

Ryan said, "Oh," mostly to himself but it came out loud enough for all of them to hear and Spencer just hoped no one actually took it the way Ryan meant it.

Jon caught a bit of it, judging by the sudden concerned look he shot Ryan, but Brendon just bounced more on his heels, grinning at them.

"Nice to meet you," Spencer said, almost genuinely. Jon heard that too. Spencer just shook his head at him quick, and enough for Jon to leave it alone.

Brendon nodded enthusiastically and replied, "Jon tells me you kick ass on the drums."

Spencer blushed automatically. "Not really."

"No, he does." Ryan suddenly cut in, firm and slightly defiant. Like Brendon was going to start arguing with him.

He was working on a glare too, and Spencer was reminded, suddenly and forcibly, how unused to conversation with people who weren't Spencer or Jon Ryan was. He sighed and widened his eyes pointedly at Jon. Jon looked confused for a second but he got it, hastening over to put his arm around Ryan, pulling him into a half hug.

"Ryan's my boyfriend," he said, and it would have come out awkward and weird if it was anyone but Jon saying it. Only it was Jon, and it was Jon saying it about Ryan, and no amount of sudden social awkwardness could keep the pride and devotion out of Jon's voice when he said those words.

Brendon looked questioningly at Spencer, sharp and knowing, just for a second and then it was gone, and he was smiling and nodding again. But in that moment Spencer caught a glimmer of something, someone different behind the hyper exterior, and it gave him pause.

"That's cool, I mean, the way he talked about you I kind of figured." Brendon smiled after this but Ryan just shifted closer under Jon's arm.

Spencer filled in again. "So where are you from?"

That launched Brendon into his Life and Times, which kept them all pretty well occupied during their break. Every so often Spencer would almost catch another glimpse of the quiet, observant person he'd seen for that split second after Jon's announcement, but it never lasted long enough for Spencer to be able to pin down what might be going on there. Interestingly, it didn't make him more suspicious, it actually sort of... lessened his suspicion actually. It wasn't something he was used to feeling about people who weren't Ryan or Jon but he actually felt kind of... concerned. He wondered what made Brendon think he needed to hide that part of himself, why he seemed to cover for it so effectively and exuberantly.

Spencer sighed and shook himself out of his reverie. Brendon was laughing and clutching onto his sides over something it looked like Ryan, of all people, had said. Even Ryan was smiling, although a little hesitantly, and Brendon looked totally natural and in the moment. There was no trace of that other person Spencer could have sworn he'd been. He'd probably been imagining it anyway.

\---

As it turned out, he hadn't been. The more time Spencer spent with Brendon, and was becoming a lot, the more Spencer became convinced he was seeing something else behind almost all of Brendon's gestures, his reactions. It wasn't like Brendon was fake, there was something completely raw and genuine about him. But it was like he channeled that, used it as a shield against everything else he was, everything else he thought and felt. It was kind of like watching Ryan in reverse. Some kind of bizarro version of Ryan where he had chosen pep and exuberance to deflect the world's attention instead of quiet, contained blankness. Spencer wasn't fooling himself into thinking he knew the kinds of secrets Brendon was hiding, he wasn't saying he had Brendon all figured out. But he knew something was there, something that hurt too much to think about, too much to let show, and he found himself more bothered by that than he'd like. Especially since he had no idea what to do about it. How to fix it or even if he could.

Whether Brendon would let him was one thing, what it would do to Ryan if he tried was another. Jon wouldn't be a problem, Spencer could see that much. How much Jon would want to help Brendon if he knew there was something that needed helping was pretty much a problem of its own, or was on its way to becoming one. Hell, Jon probably did know. Spencer wasn't the only one watching Brendon pretty closely, and Jon wasn't exactly stupid. He played it off, but he was smart about people, he looked at them and he could usually tell what they were about. It was how Spencer still trusted that Brendon was good, that he was the kind and funny things he showed about himself, in addition to whatever else he was hiding. Spencer trusted that because Jon did.

And it wasn't that Ryan didn't know Jon had good instincts, or that Spencer didn't. Ryan trusted them and that was all he knew, all he had. But it was different, Spencer knew that. They weren't asking Ryan to trust them with himself, they were asking him to trust them with someone else.

\---

Ryan was generally well behaved in Brendon's presence, he was never mean, just quiet, watchful. Spencer felt like he spent half the time they spent with Brendon just watching Ryan watch him, but Jon never seemed to notice. Brendon had a way of moving, speaking, that captivated all of their attentions, but Jon's most of all.

Jon and Brendon were dancing around each other, anyone could see it. Spencer saw the same gentle teasing and lazy charm working on Brendon as it had once worked on Ryan and himself, but strangely it didn't make him jealous. It wasn't an act, Spencer knew that much for certain. It was just how Jon was around someone he loved. Brendon had charm of his own, although rather more unexpected and far less mellow. His laugh was loud and open, and his face was pretty enough to make you blink, if he caught you with the right expression. No, Spencer couldn't be jealous of Jon for feeling what he also felt, couldn't be angry with him for acting on it, even just a little. In the simplest, most involuntary way.

Ryan was possibly a different story.

\---

When Spencer looked at Ryan, held him, he was all Spencer could see, all he could feel. But in moments when they weren't alone, when Brendon was there with them, Spencer could feel his heart splintering off, remaking itself anew as clearly as it had with Jon. It frightened him to think of what this change would do to Ryan, but whenever Spencer looked at Brendon, the thought exhilarated him, too.

\---

Ryan loved school, and it was a good thing too, because Spencer was guessing school was pretty much the only thing that distracted Ryan from having a nervous breakdown over the whole Brendon situation. In the month they'd been at university, Brendon had become a near staple in their lives. Migrating towards their table or clump of bodies on the floor whenever they had breaks at the same time, coming over to study and play music with Jon. He routinely volunteered to be Spencer's guinea pig when he tried out new recipes and he was always trying to draw Ryan into conversation, inching into his personal space and doing the things Jon had once done so well. Brendon liked the kinds of things Ryan liked, was the thing. Really, from what Spencer could tell, outside and what he kept hidden, Brendon had way more in common with Ryan than he did with either Jon or himself. Brendon seemed to know it too, and he directed himself doggedly towards getting Ryan to see it. He asked about the books Ryan was reading, he tried to get Ryan to play guitar with him, to discuss influences, to compare their tastes so Ryan would see how close they were. But whereas Ryan had melted at Jon's casual onslaught, he seemed to turn colder and harder against Brendon the more he tried. At first Spencer thought it was just tactics, Brendon was overt where Jon had been subtle, gentler. But it wasn't just that, Ryan didn't actually go for subtlety, most of the time. He liked it when people were direct, when they made their intentions clear. It was something else about Brendon.

It took almost six weeks for Spencer to figure out what it was.

\---

They were walking from the Alcott building to - in theory - the Richardson wing of the Theater building. It wasn't dark exactly; dusk was still putting up a fight against the night. October leaves were crunching under their feet.

Ryan adjusted his scarf around his neck and scowled at Spencer imperiously. "You're supposed to know where we're going," he noted for possibly the 10th time.

Spencer glared at the clump of trees and buildings in the distance. They looked familiar. Not in a good way.

Ryan huffed, straightening his fingerless gloves daintily. "We've passed those before. Honestly, Spence, the campus is not that big."

Spencer reminded himself how sad Jon would be if he killed Ryan and managed to restrain himself. His pride had dictated that he give up carrying a campus map after the second week, but if he had been holding it, he would have hit Ryan with it. Or at least pretended to.

"We're going to miss it," Ryan breathed softly, the real fear finally emerging from the complaints.

Spencer sighed heavily and checked his watch. "Maybe. But not yet."

There they were, standing on the path, the one that was supposed to take them to Jon (and Brendon's) first music recital of the year, vaguely lost and furious with themselves when suddenly something crashed into Ryan and almost knocked him over.

Ryan swore in surprise and alarm, flailing to steady himself and ending up with an armful of out of breath and wildly apologetic Brendon.

"Shit, I'm so sorry - I didn't see you - I was - I'm so late and I was running, but I don't run so it was distracting me - I mean I had to concentrate so I wouldn't trip but then I hit you instead and I'm so--"

"Brendon," Ryan interrupted sharply, taking a step back and silencing him with the cool arch of an eyebrow.

Spencer watched almost nervously. He trusted Ryan, of course, but there was something strange in his voice. Brendon's chest was still heaving a bit.

Ryan kept his eyes focused on Brendon's and continued. "You don't have to be sorry. You can make it up to us instead."

Spencer was alarmed by Ryan's commanding tone, but something in Brendon seemed to be responding to it, calming him. He nodded eagerly.

A ghost of a smile crossed Ryan's lips. "Good man. Now take us to Jon."

They made the recital with only minutes to spare. Brendon had zero time to collect himself, but on stage he looked utterly composed. When he finished playing his piano piece, Ryan clapped even louder than he had for Jon.

\---

Ryan was curled up in the armchair of their living room, watching Jon and Brendon bent over the kitchen table, books and music scores spread out beneath their eyes. He wasn't watching Brendon like Spencer would have expected. His face was suspicious yet closed off, and it was like that while he was watching Jon.

"Ryan, no," Spencer said before he could edit himself. There was something there with Brendon, between him and Jon, between him and Spencer. But it wasn't... it wasn't anything that would ever have to make Ryan look like that.

Ryan held up his hand, dismissive and silent, and it took a second, but eventually Spencer got that Ryan wasn't telling him to fuck off. He was telling Spencer to shut up and watch because he'd missed the point. Lacking as he was in some of the basic social niceties, Ryan was also probably a genius, so Spencer did as he was told.

Spencer perched on the arm of the chair and felt enormously relieved when Ryan slipped a long cool arm around his waist, securing Spencer there. Calming in Ryan's hold, Spencer watched. He tried to see the things Ryan would see, tried to look right. It took him awhile, but he finally saw, and it was like his eyes were snapped into focus for the first time.

It wasn't that Jon was too touchy with Brendon, that he sat too close or talked too intimately. He didn't lean in, he didn't reach out and touch Brendon's fingers as they passed over pages they were both grabbing. He didn't knock knees with Brendon under the table or even smile at him special and hungry. Jon was, in fact, keeping a safe and careful distance from Brendon at all times and he was doing it because it looked like Brendon needed it. Needed it badly.

"One touch and he'd crack right open," Ryan said low and certain in Spencer's ear.

He shivered, not wanting to imagine what might have made Brendon that way. What Ryan recognized in Brendon, what similarities between them had allowed him to see it first. Whatever it was, it was something Ryan hadn't wanted to see. Something he'd clearly expected to avoid in this new place, something that almost made him hate Brendon, just for being the reminder.

"He would need all of us," Ryan continued, just as sure, and seemed to be explaining Jon's restraint.

Spencer remembered the way Jon had touched Brendon at first, remembered the way it had suddenly stopped. He'd assumed it was because Ryan had talked to him, but he'd never guessed this would have been why. He felt ashamed of himself for expecting so little of Ryan, to expect him to be protecting himself when he was actually trying to protect someone else. Ryan was actually much better at that than most people gave him credit for. Spencer wasn't supposed to be one of them though. He was supposed to know much better.

Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but Ryan just kept watching, sharp and intent. "We can't fuck around."

Spencer wasn't sure exactly how to avoid that, but he nodded just the same.

\---

Spencer started by taking Brendon out for waffles at one in the morning when he came out of the library cross-eyed from studying for his Chem mid-term and found Brendon curled up asleep by the locked doors of the student union.

Well, first he said, "Brendon what the fuck?"

And Brendon had been too tired, apparently, too startled, to lie. He'd just shrugged and told Spencer his roommate was having sex in their room and, not that he particularly wanted to be, he wasn't invited.

"Jesus," Spencer responded, hauling Brendon up off the ground. "And you didn't at least think of the couches in the library? Or fuck, Bren - our place?"

Brendon smiled, quick and bitter. "I don't think Ryan would appreciate it."

Spencer was momentarily stunned Brendon had put it so bluntly, so honestly, but he distracted himself by glaring and giving Brendon's arm a little shake. "Ryan would appreciate it just fine," he insisted, almost certain it was true. Ryan took awhile to come around to things, but once he did, he pretty much kept his mind made up. "Next time," he shook his head, "if I haven't killed your roommate before there is a next time, you call us, okay?"

Brendon smiled, and it was a lie, but for the moment Spencer let it go. He was frustrated, and he was tired, and he wanted Brendon to stop looking at him like Spencer was the threshold to a million things he couldn't have.

He was also fucking hungry. Judging by the fact that Brendon's too tight babydoll t-shirt was looking a little loose, Spencer was going to assume he was hungry too.

He let go of Brendon's arm, but he gave him a look that let Brendon know he'd take it back if he had to. "Come on. I'm taking us out for breakfast."

Brendon looked at him dubiously, covering for something else. Something like an accusation, something like hope. "It's not time for breakfast. It's the middle of the night."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm hungry and I want waffles. That means it's time for breakfast."

Brendon opened his mouth like he was actually going to argue, not about going at all but about whether you could just defy the traditional norms regarding things like breakfast times and for a second Spencer caught another glimpse of that other Brendon. He was going to argue and on some level, he was going to mean it. He was going to try and convince Spencer he couldn't have breakfast because it wasn't the right time of day.

For some reason that freaked Spencer out more than anything else had yet. He tried to make his eyes look kind while he kept his voice hard. "Brendon, I want waffles. I want you to have waffles with me. I usually get what I want."

Brendon laughed, and that scared Spencer too. He fell into step with Spencer, but Spencer still heard it when Brendon muttered under his breath, "one of us should," like he thought it was right that out of the two of them, that one would be Spencer.

Spencer refused to believe Brendon was talking about the food, no one could sound that desolate about waffles, and kept right on walking. Whatever Brendon's problems were, Spencer was bound to have a better chance of fixing them if neither of them were operating on an empty stomach.

\---

There was an all night restaurant that shared Spencer's philosophy about the correct time to have breakfast on the outskirts of the campus. Aside from the glowy thing it did to Ryan's cheeks and the way he'd sometimes make them go on walks around the grounds just so he could talk about the history of each building with a tiny skip in his step, it was Spencer's favorite thing about their university.

Once they were seated and Spencer had ordered an enormous amount of waffles for himself that he fully intended on making Brendon eat at least half of, since he had refused to order for himself, insisting he couldn't afford it, Spencer tried to get him to talk. First about what was wrong, about what was going on, but when that failed miserably, he settled on just trying to get Brendon to talk. Period.

He'd never seen Brendon shut down like this. It was scary and it kind of made Spencer want to cry. It was like Brendon couldn't try anymore, couldn't put up his walls, couldn't be anyone Spencer had ever seen before and underneath that facade he was just stripped too bare to speak. In a moment of desperation, Spencer reached across the table and tried to take Brendon's hand, but he jerked it away so fast Spencer almost didn't see the hand move.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Brendon," Spencer said, because suddenly it seemed he needed to make that clear.

Brendon's eyes flashed with something for a second and then he laughed, a hollow impression of his usual giggly guffaw. "I know." The crazy thing was that it sounded like he meant it.

They sat in silence after that, as Brendon failed at a forcing fake smile onto his face and Spencer failed at trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. When the food arrived Spencer didn't think he could eat, but he saw the way Brendon's eyes flicked towards it, involuntary with hunger, just for a second. Figuring he'd have no chance of getting Brendon to eat if he didn't, Spencer picked up his fork and cut into the small mountain of strawberry covered waffles with affected relish.

"If you're not careful I'm gonna eat them all myself, and then you'll have to carry my dead body back to Ryan and Jon and explain to them what happened," he warned.

Brendon smiled, finally almost looking convincing. They locked eyes for a breath and then Brendon picked up his fork and dug in.

\---

When Spencer got home, supporting a nearly comatose Brendon, Jon and Ryan were still up. Spencer wasn't particularly surprised. They tended to wait up for him most nights anyway, and even if it hadn't started out that way, the three of them slept fitfully when the group wasn't complete and Spencer had been gone far too long to escape Ryan and Jon's bodies' notice. It was a testament to how far gone Brendon was that the sight of them hunched together on the couch didn't even startle him awake. He just made a soft, distracted sound and then dropped his head back onto Spencer's shoulder. In a flash, Jon and Ryan were on their feet at Spencer's side, helping him drag Brendon to the couch and deposit him there. Wordlessly, Ryan rummaged in the cushions of the easy chair until he found his afghan. He spread it over Brendon's sleeping form with a kind of grudging tenderness.

Not knowing what else to do, Spencer turned away and walked into their bedroom. Ryan and Jon followed him.

"Why'd you bring him here Spence?" Ryan asked. Not an accusation, but even, like he expected Spencer to have a good reason.

"He was sleeping on the floor! His fucktard roommate kicked him out so he could get laid. I couldn't just leave him there!"

Ryan nodded tightly, his mind already moving on to the next problem.

"Are we keeping him?"

Jon's mouth fell open a bit, his hand coming to rub shock and tiredness out of his face. "Ryan," he said, like he didn't even know where to start.

Ryan shook his head. "Are we?"

"Ry, we can't just, we don't even know if he'd want that."

Ryan looked at Jon, possibly for the first time ever, like he was a bit of an idiot. "He wants that."

Spencer wasn't as sure as Ryan, but he was sure of him.

Jon, for all his reluctance, had the same faith. "Okay, but is that a good enough reason?"

"He needs us," Spencer heard himself say. Instantly he knew it was true.

Jon looked pained, haggard. "Again, I say, is that a good enough reason?"

"I want to keep him," Spencer whispered. It didn't sound like the betrayal he'd imagined. Feared.

Ryan softened, not his resolve, but his approach. He smiled at Jon, his first smile Jon had ever claimed. The one that meant Ryan believed in Jon, believed in the way he loved. "You saw him first. You knew it first. He doesn't just need us. We need him."

Jon held onto his doubts for one minute longer, and then nodded.

Spencer felt something flutter in his chest. Anticipation, fear. Anticipation of what they might gain, fear of what they might lose. Greater than that, fear of what they might cost Brendon if they were wrong, if they failed.

Ryan smiled again, for Spencer this time. The smile he'd seen a thousand times, but still remembered as the first Ryan ever gave him, over his shoulder in the meadow where they first met.

Despite everything, despite Spencer not even having spoken aloud, Ryan sounded positively certain when he said, "We won't."

\---

They got up early the next morning, afraid that Brendon would wake first and leave, but when they left their bedroom Brendon was awake and still there. Still there and... cleaning.

He jumped when he heard them behind him, almost but not quite dropping the knickknack he was compulsively dusting. It was a china dog Ryan had bought at a flea market their second day in town.

"I'm sorry," Brendon stammered, speed making him trip over his syllables. "I was just - it's something I do when I'm..."

"Afraid?" Ryan prompted.

Brendon laughed. "I was gonna say nervous. But then, I was gonna lie."

"You should do that less."

Brendon's face got tight, "I'm not a -"

Ryan cut him off. "I meant be afraid."

The brief moment of defiance disappeared from Brendon's face and he deflated into himself. "Oh."

Ryan smiled at him sadly. "I know you probably don't think you have any good reason not to, but you don't have to be afraid here. Brendon. We're not going to hurt you."

Brendon just stared at Ryan, slightly wild-eyed, almost reproachful.

Ryan's smiled turned serious, but stayed a shade away from becoming a knowing frown. He clarified. "We're not going to make you leave."

Jon cleared his throat. "We're asking you to stay."

Brendon's eyes darted frantically between the three of them, never resting. It seemed none of them presented a safe option. Maybe it was just that he didn't find anyone he thought he could convince.

"You don't even like me," he said eventually, not looking at him, but clearly speaking to Ryan.

Ryan chuckled, a mean little laugh directed at himself. "I'm not so good at sharing. But Spencer and Jon have been teaching me. I'm learning."

Something in Ryan's voice gave Brendon the courage to raise his eyes, to look into Ryan's. "Not just that," he accused softly.

Ryan flashed a quick smile, almost like he was congratulating Brendon at catching his omission. "You see me."

Brendon looked upset, suddenly. A different kind. "So do they."

Ryan nodded, another quick, approving gesture. "But not like you."

Brendon seemed to accept this, and he nodded slightly to himself. "I like what I see," he offered eventually.

Ryan took a step towards Brendon and offered him a new smile. One not even Spencer had seen before. "So do I."

\---

That wasn't the end of course. It was only the beginning.

They got Brendon to sit with them, to talk of simple, casual things while Spencer made a second breakfast and Ryan and Jon held hands. When the food was ready Spencer joined them at the table and Jon said, "Brendon, we don't want to push you, but we want you to have a real idea of what we're asking. The first part is to know, to say... Well, Ryan and I. We're together, you know that part but it's not... it's Spencer, too."

Brendon wrinkled his forehead. "I know."

Ryan grinned, proud again. "Of course you do." He rolled his eyes at Jon warmly. "I told you so."

Jon nodded in acknowledgment. "I just wanted to be sure. I don't want any misunderstandings."

Spencer silently but heartily agreed.

Also silent, Brendon bent his head down and played with his eggs.

Ryan looked momentarily reluctant, disturbed, but before Spencer could ask why, he was watching Ryan reach out and touch Brendon's wrist, just once, a light tap. "Brendon, eat," he ordered softly.

Brendon's hand brought the food to his mouth like he'd been snapped to attention. He took a bite, and then another. And another.

Ryan bit his down hard on his lip and then pulled himself together.

"Ryan," Jon wavered. Spencer grabbed his hand under the table and Jon was silent.

He and Ryan shared a silent conversation that Jon followed, and finally he nodded. Ryan thanked Jon with a nod for the confidence. Jon shrugged like he couldn't help it.

Then they all turned their attention back to Brendon. His plate was almost empty.

"You can slow down a bit if you want." Ryan's voice was coaxing this time, less a clear command.

Brendon followed it anyway.

Jon, being Jon, couldn't just sit by. But he did something different than he'd been about to before Ryan had checked his approach, "Hey, Bren," he said softly. "My eggs are all gone, can I have a bite?"

Brendon looked at Ryan, and then back at Jon. "They're good," he said, somewhat nonsensically.

Jon just nodded. "That's why I want to steal some of yours."

Brendon caught him, saw the set up Jon was making for him, but he smiled anyway. It looked real on his lips. "We can share."

\---

So that was breakfast. Coffee came after. They sat on the couch together, all four of them. Brendon was wedged between the arm rest and Ryan. It seemed the safest arrangement.

Ryan took the lead again. "Brendon, I'm going to tell you about my dad." He paused, looking at Brendon questioningly.

Brendon's eyes widened, confused by the offer. He clearly understood that it wasn't the sort of thing Ryan enjoyed talking about. In fact, Spencer suspected Brendon understand that all too well. Still he nodded, like he wanted to show Ryan he was taking the gift seriously. "Okay."

Ryan smiled to himself. Spencer could almost hear him thinking, one step at a time. "And then maybe, when I'm done, you can tell me about your parents." His voice was nothing like it had been at the table, and Brendon seemed to physically register the difference.

Brendon swallowed. "Maybe."

Just for that, Ryan said, "Thank you."

And then he told his story.

Spencer had heard it before, lived it. But it made the anger crash back over him, the sadness. Jon knew the story too, but it was fresher for him in some ways, there had been so much less he could do, so many years of abuse and neglect he'd been simply absent from. No way to protect Ryan. He took the retelling harder for that reason. Or maybe it was just because he was Jon. He never seemed to be able to grasp why people hurt each other. Could never seem to comprehend it.

Brendon was completely still, completely silent the entire time Ryan spoke. When Ryan was done, when he finished by saying that he was happy, that he could remember his father and still be happy because he was safe, because he was loved, Brendon flexed his fingers for a second like he wanted to reach out and touch, but then he snapped them back like that was wrong.

Ryan caught it, saw the thoughts flash across Brendon's face just like Spencer did. Maybe better. Or at least, maybe Ryan understood the why behind them a little better.

Ryan stretched his hand out, meeting Brendon's half way. But he didn't go the extra inches to actually touch, he left that option up to Brendon. Brendon stared at Ryan's hand, a conflict of want and wariness battling his eyes. Eventually Brendon dropped his hand, tucking up further away from Ryan.

Ryan looked disappointed, but not surprised.

"Touch means you're bad, right?" Ryan brought his voice up like a question, but it wasn't really one. He wouldn't risk saying something like that unless he was already sure.

All the same, Brendon nodded. It looked like that was all they were going to get, like Ryan was going to have to be Brendon's voice again, but he surprised them. Straightened up a little in his seat and said, "It's not something they mean to do. I mean, it's not like they're bad people. They loved me." Spencer and Jon both flinched at the use of past tense, but didn't interrupt. "They're just not affectionate people. Physically affectionate. I mean, I think my dad's hugged me, like, once. In my whole life." Despite the I mean, Brendon looked pretty sure. He sounded pretty sure. "And it wasn't like they beat me or anything." Brendon didn't look at Ryan as he said this, but there was a trace of an apology in his voice. "They were just - stern. When I... when one of us did something wrong we got spanked. It's not that unusual, lots of parents discipline their kids that way." Brendon said this like it was a blanket he was wrapping himself in, a familiar set of words he used to try to talk away the hurts that had been done to him. To turn them into something else. He was trying to talk himself out of his own pain, talk himself into being to blame, and it made bile rise in Spencer's throat.

He glanced over at Ryan and saw that he was even closer to being sick. Jon just looked white, too horrified for anger.

Whatever the line between beating and disciplining your child was, the way Brendon was hunched into himself, keeping his limbs tucked in as unobtrusively as possible, told Spencer Brendon's parents had definitely crossed it. And worse, whatever fucked up justification they had used on Brendon still seemed to be working. At least Ryan had fucking known his father's abuse wasn't something he had coming. He learned, anyway. That it had nothing to do with him. Brendon didn't seem to have gotten that lucky. Spencer almost snarled. Lucky.

Spencer was between Jon and Ryan, and Ryan reached out to pat Spencer's knee, reassuring him he still knew. It evened Spencer's breath a little. Spencer tried to pass the message along, taking Jon's hand and giving it a firm squeeze. Jon squeezed back.

Ryan was focused on Brendon again, leaning to look him in the eye but careful not to crowd him, not to touch. Still, Spencer could sort of see Ryan gearing himself up for it.

"Bren," he said, using Jon's name for him. "I know that you know it, that in your head you understand so I'm not going to just tell you it's not like that. Like you don't already know it wouldn't be like that with us. But I want to help you feel it, see?"

Spencer felt a bit like Ryan was speaking in code, but whatever Brendon heard, it seemed to steady him a little.

Seeing this, Ryan held out his fingers again, a warning, an offer.

Brendon nodded this time, and with a steadying inhale, laced his fingers with Ryan's.

Ryan's smiled was brief and triumphant and he seemed to take a moment to enjoy the feel of Brendon's hand in his before he slowly withdrew. Brendon seemed surprised to no longer be holding Ryan's hand, staring down at his own empty hand almost gratefully.

Ryan did something that was almost a wink, or as close to it as someone with the range of facial expressions Ryan did could ever manage. "I think you'll find I'm a stubborn asshole, not a pushy one."

Brendon laughed, and that sounded real too.

\---

So that was coffee. Then came daily life. They did their best to keep an eye on him, to keep Brendon with them, to show him they wanted it that way. But they all still had classes, Brendon had piano lessons to teach on top of that and was generally wilily. During classes with Jon, in the cafeteria or halls with them, he seemed totally fine. Normal like he was so good at playing at, but also like his real self, laughing and teasing and talking a mile a minute about things that got dorkier the faster he spoke. He made them all laugh with him, made even Ryan light up, lose himself to the infectious goofiness that was Brendon. It made it hard to remember there was someone else in there too, the guy who flinched when he made too much noise inside their apartment or almost locked himself in the bathroom when Spencer tripped over Brendon's shoes when he walked in the door.

So there was that. And they were working on it, they were trying, but it was hard. Hard to work at and hard to always be conscious of. Brendon had what was probably a life time of practice distracting people from just what they were trying to be on the watch for. But Ryan had a life time too, and Spencer had been there with him. He knew how to look too, now that he knew what he was looking. And Jon was Jon. Most of it he got without even having to be told, and he was quick fucking study with the rest. It helped that Brendon wanted to be able to trust them, that he wanted to believe the promises they made. Spencer didn't think they would have stood a chance if it wasn't for that.

In addition to Brendon, trying to help him while falling for him, trying to make the two work at the same time, they were still Ryan, Spencer and Jon, and that took work too. Needed attention, time.

Spencer almost didn't notice it at first, too preoccupied with Brendon, getting him to stay with them, getting him to trust them. But after a few days he finally noticed that in the times when Brendon wasn't there, Jon was clinging extra hard. Not in an obvious way, not in the way that Ryan made his wants known by conspicuously avoiding them or even how Spencer was beginning to learn Brendon danced around things he craved, laughing them off and then flitting back almost close enough to touch before recoiling again. Jon's methods were more simple, more straight forward, and maybe that was why it took Spencer so long. Simple wasn't really something he was used to watching out for.

But Jon was always holding onto to him, onto Ryan, grabbing their hands and then holding tight, looking away.

Spencer noticed it but Ryan spoke first, "Jon?"

They were in their bedroom, sitting in a row on their bed, looking out their window. They could see the tree tops and the beginnings of storm clouds on the horizon.

Jon answered promptly, like he had been waiting for the question, "Was it like this for you? When I came? Did you feel this shaken up in nervousness and excitement? Did I make you this afraid you'd lose each other?" He looked at both of them searchingly, his eyes looking for answers his question might not receive.

Ryan took Jon's knee, curling his fingers around it. "You helped me not be afraid."

Spencer smiled at the way Ryan's response straightened Jon's shoulders up two notches out of his worried slump. He hoped his answer wouldn't undo Ryan's work. "I worried about it. I was happy, happy to have found you, happy with how you were affecting Ryan. More than anything I was happy, but I was worried about it, too. Afraid you'd find more in each other than would leave any need left for me."

Ryan looked at him sharply. He'd never admitted this before.

"You couldn't ever lose me, Spence."

Spencer smiled. "I know. I know that now." He looked at Jon. "That was you. Having you come, what you helped us see about what we felt for each other, the way you fit with us. You made me see nothing can shake us, nothing that can't be fixed. We both loved you but it didn't break us, it made us stronger. Made us whole."

"Almost," Ryan said, with quiet, careful confidence.

Jon sighed. "I saw him sitting there, that first day of class, with his hood up and this perfect expression on his face. Like he'd practiced it a thousand times in the mirror. It was friendly, inquisitive, just a trace of a knowing smirk. Everything you'd expect from a first-year student, a little bit nervous but mostly just happy, open. I saw all that like a picture, it was perfect but it wasn't almost frozen. I don't know... I liked him the second I started talking to him, but I was drawn to him even before that."

Spencer remembered meeting Jon for the first time, remembered the way he'd spoken about Ryan's house and Ryan himself. This was different, but underneath it felt the same.

Ryan didn't have the benefit of that memory, but he nodded, getting the message just the same. "He belongs with us. Even when I was scared, angry at him for coming, for just appearing in our lives, needing us so much, I knew he did. I knew we needed him as much as he needed us." He ran his fingers roughly through his hair. "Fuck, that's why I was angry."

"I really never expected this to happen again," Jon admitted with a shaky laugh.

After a minute, Ryan and Spencer laughed too. They'd been so sure they were done, complete. Now, knowing Brendon existed, the thought seemed like something worth laughing at.

\---

It was slow going. Gentle encouragement, small touches when Brendon finished something he needed to for a class or remembered he was allowed to ask for things he wanted. Jon and Spencer did they best they could to be what Brendon needed, but often felt lost. Spencer felt safest when following Ryan's lead, and knew Jon felt the same. Spencer had seen Ryan focused before, he'd even seen him sure of himself before. But never the combination together, not at this intensity. Ryan really seemed to know what the fuck he was doing, he seemed to believe it would work. Spencer had clearly misjudged a fortnight's worth of research as suspicion. He felt like a pretty huge asshole about it, but evidently Ryan had wanted it that way.

At least Spencer assumed so, considering the way Ryan had kissed him apologetically and said, "First I had to be sure."

Knowing Ryan as well as he did, Spencer sort of got it. Not even to completely erase his guilt, but it helped.

Careful as he was, as confident as he was in his purpose, it still took Ryan over a week to coax Brendon into the even the earliest stages of trust. To bring Brendon back up to the surface of himself enough to smile again, to laugh. And mean it.

The first time Brendon threw his head back and laughed at Jon and Ryan's combined efforts to play Sweet Home Alabama on guitar, Spencer was reminded that they weren't just doing this because Brendon was good and he needed someone to show him that. Spencer was reminded, watching Brendon laugh clean and real, that they were also doing this because they were falling in real fucking love with him. The three of them together. Spencer watched the way Brendon shared his laughter between them and for that moment he let himself forget the worry that tensed his stomach and felt only the love that made him worry in the first place.

When Ryan looked up at Spencer and smiled, a little proud, but mostly just overwhelmingly in love, Spencer felt that, too.

\---

It was frustrating to see Brendon, upset and tired, rubbing at his eyes over school books and muttering to himself under his breath, to look at him at think now there's someone who needs a hug and know they couldn't give him one. Of the three of them, Spencer thought it was probably hardest for Jon, who communicated so much through touch, who was easier putting his feelings into his hands than his words. Ryan could work with either, but he'd been practicing his voice longer than his touch, and unlike Spencer or Jon, he usually knew what to say to Brendon. Spencer found himself falling somewhere in the middle. He had no problem saying what he meant, he was good at laying things out clearly, he was naturally forthright. But he also longed to touch, to comfort in a way he'd grown up believing couldn't be conveyed in words alone.

It was bad enough seeing Brendon and wishing he could put his arms around him, wishing that would help instead of hurt. At least those times Brendon was with them. He was there. They were still having some trouble maintaining even that. Despite their insistence that they wanted him there, Brendon kept slipping away. Back to his dorm or just off alone at school, ducking out of sight and disappearing for hours or sometimes even days.

Sometimes they'd look up and he'd just be gone, other times he'd smile and wink, promising to get out of their way, give them a little private time. He'd say it like it was a treat he was giving them, like they'd be so lucky to be rid of him for awhile.

"Ryan," Spencer heard himself whine. Honest to god whine. "What are we supposed to do?"

Ryan sighed and pressed his fingers into his temples.

They were in the laundromat across from the university. Ryan was sitting on one of the dryers and Spencer was across from him on one of the washers. Jon was pacing between them. Until his speedy exit five minutes previously, Brendon had been there, too.

Jon rolled his shoulders and tried to stretch some of the tension out of his fingers. "Is it... are we doing something wrong?" he asked.

Ryan bit his lip, shaking his head. "I don't know. I thought... it seems like we're doing the right thing, like it's helping him. He's made progress, we know he has."

Spencer thought about the past few weeks. Thought about how they'd gotten to the point where Ryan could walk up behind Brendon and put his hand on Brendon's shoulder and Brendon would just tilt his head back and smile, where he would have once spun around with a wild, guilty look on his face. Thought about the easy smiles and the laughs that seem to build from Brendon's toes. Thought about the way he'd even, once or twice, touched first. A hand on Spencer's when he said good night, a knee bumping Jon's while they worked on their compositions together, or fingers reaching out to adjust Ryan's grip when they were practicing guitar. All of that seemed so promising, so hopeful. Only Brendon kept disappearing. No matter how much progress they seemed to be making, at the end of the day, he always seemed determined to slip away.

A horrifying thought occurred to him. The look on Jon's face made Spencer sure he wasn't the only one.

Ryan wasn't looking at either of them, he was just staring at his folded hands, his face blank.

"Ryan, what if we were wrong? What if he... what if he's just - what if he really just wants to be our friend, and appreciates what we're doing but doesn't - Ryan what if nothing's wrong except that he just doesn't want us!" Spencer knew his voice was slightly hysterical, he couldn't be bothered to fight it.

Ryan's hands twitched in his lap. "I don't know."

"Ryan!" Spencer shouted before he could help himself.

Jon was at his side, his hand on Spencer's chest. "Steady, Spence. It's not his fault."

Spencer drew in a shaky breath. "Jesus. Ryan. I'm sorry."

Ryan shook his head. "It's fine."

Jon looked at Ryan with a mix of love and worry. He looked like he was aiming for reassuring. "It will be. Even if that is all he wants, just to be our friend, we'll still have him in our lives. He'll still be ours, Ryan, you know that much. We weren't wrong about that. Not about him needing us, not about us needing him."

Ryan kept his eyes fixed on his hands for long enough to think over Jon's words, to see if he could believe in them. When he finally looked up at Jon, he was smiling.

\---

They planned to talk to Brendon about it the next night when they had him over for dinner. He had let them coax him into the meal, but insisted he had to go back to his dorm to study as soon as he helped doing the dishes. Which was another thing he insisted on. Always helping clean up, doing chores. Like he was earning his keep.

"Bren, would you sit down?" Jon requested, his exasperation making his voice sound sharp.

He and Spencer had been trying to cook while Brendon flitted around, trying to do everything and ending up getting completely in the way.

Jon's irritation was more to do with other things, his anxiety about the conversation they were planning for the actual meal. Either way, expressing it was hardly worth the slightly disappointed look Ryan shot him before slipping into the chair beside the one Brendon had practically thrown himself into a second after Jon spoke. Spencer sighed and went back to chopping the red peppers with increased vigor.

Ryan was careful not to touch Brendon, not after a moment like that, but he leaned his head around, trying to catch Brendon's eye. When he managed it, he gave Brendon a goofy smile. It almost brightened Brendon's face.

"They usually don't even let me in here while they're working. I should say Spencer doesn't actually, since he's the boss and Jon's just here to do Spence's grunt work." His voice was light, conspiratorial.

Still, Brendon nodded. This was serious information.

Spencer could see Ryan trying to school his features to hide his disappointment. He was usually better at this. Or maybe Brendon just tried harder to meet Ryan half way, most of the time.

"We can make the dessert though, what do you think?" His smile was slightly wicked. Spencer wanted to lick it off him. But there were more important matters. "Chocolate pudding. We'll chill it and make vanilla chip pictures on each bowl."

This was actually Ryan's secret, maybe the only childhood comfort he actually brought from his own home, not just borrowed from Spencer's. He and his dad had done it, back when his dad was sometimes sober enough to pay attention to things like Ryan's birthday.

Brendon didn't know any of this, Spencer wasn't even sure Jon did, but he could clearly hear something in Ryan's voice, could see how this was different, special. Ryan wasn't just offering Brendon comfort, he was trying to share his own.

Finally, Brendon smiled. "Okay, but I'm totally making a dinosaur on mine."

Ryan smiled back. "Of course you are."

\---

They ended up saving the talk until after dinner and the clean up was done. Until they were all spread out in the living room with giant bowls of pudding. Brendon kept staring at his longingly but not eating.

Jon was at his side, and leaned over to look one more time. "That's a pretty badass dinosaur." He sighed with the same kind of regret as Brendon's face was showing.

Brendon sighed. "I know. I never should have made him so awesome. Now I'll never be able to eat it."

Ryan rolled his eyes fondly at both of them, and stuck another heaping spoonful of pudding and chips into his mouth. "You really should, it's delicious," he said, his words coming out all soft around the edges, muddled from the pudding.

Spencer elbowed him in the side on principle. Ryan just smirked and nodded slightly towards Jon, who was snapping his fingers and jumping off the couch a second later.

"Jon?" Brendon called, seeming lightly put-out that Jon had abandoned him on the couch where their knees had been touching.

Internally, Spencer celebrated this development. Beside him, Ryan was vibrating a little, he was so pleased.

Jon came back carrying his camera. "Perfect, right? Now you can have your pudding dinosaur and eat it, too!"

Ryan had to hold in a laugh, but Brendon just beamed.

"Genius, Jon Walker, you're an absolute genius."

Jon grinned. "I try my best."

In the quiet moment after Brendon stopped laughing and just watched Jon take a picture of Brendon's pudding, Ryan caught Spencer's eye and they nodded to each other. Brendon was as calm as he was going to get.

They got up to sit closer with Jon and Brendon, they didn't cram in on the couch but brought their chairs closer so they were sitting face to face. Ryan directly across from Brendon, Spencer and Jon locking eyes, smiling reassuringly at each other.

Brendon looked nervously between them. He tried for a smile. "Guys, you weren't just fattening me up with pudding and Spencer's awesome cooking so you could eat me or anything, were ya?"

Ryan laughed. Spencer looked at him sideways. It was actually kind of funny, but still. This was hardly the time. Ryan just rolled his eyes and leaned in, his hands meeting at his knees, face close with Brendon's.

"I love you, did you know that?"

Brendon snapped back, pushing as hard against the back of the couch as he could, eyes wide.

Spencer and Jon were pretty shocked too. It wasn't exactly that they'd had a plan, but if they had, neither of them would have expected this to be it.

But Ryan looked pretty sure of himself. He was still smiling.

"I love you. I love you more every day I know you. I want to keep you safe, to keep you with me and that's why. Because you're mine."

Brendon shook his head. "I don't...." He swallowed, out of words.

Ryan tilted his head, considering. Weighing Brendon's possible objections. "I'll love you any way I can Brendon, whichever way you want. Whichever way won't hurt you. But you're not hurting me, you're not ruining anything, not being the way you are, not with the way you make me more in love with you with every move you make."

Brendon gulped. "But I..." He glanced frantically and Spencer, and then Jon. "But they--"

"Bren, it's not just Ryan. It's me too," Jon said with great certainty. With love.

Spencer nodded. "It's all of us."

If possible, this news seemed to distress Brendon even more, to cause him to look even more pinned.

Jon looked worried, but he kept going, "That's what we meant from the beginning. From the time when we... when we first talked about wanting to have you here. Did you not, I guess we weren't very clear but we're trying to say it now Brendon. I love you."

Spencer reached out to touch Jon's knee, but he looked at Brendon when he said, "I love you, too. So much."

Ryan regained control of the conversation, noting Brendon's firmly panicked expression. "Because we love you, we would never force you into anything. We'd never ask for more or different than what you wanted to give. If you want to be our friend, to keep things just as they've been, we're going to be okay with that. We're still going to want you here. We're still going to love you, but we'll try to love you a different way, if that's what you need."

Brendon shut his eyes and held down for a long time, and when he opened them again, he seemed almost surprised the three of them were still there.

"But why?" he croaked eventually.

Spencer could think of a million reasons, a million little things about Brendon that made him laugh, made his skin heat up, made his chest ache. He could think of a million things they agreed on, and a million more that would only be on Jon's list, or Ryan's.

A million things, but Jon managed to say them all in five simple words.

"Because you make us whole."

\---

After their round of revelations, Brendon stayed. He looked at them with eyes wide with surprise that it would be anything they'd want to hear and he told them he loved them, one by one. And then he stayed.

Over the next days and weeks he began slowly moving his things into their apartment, began talking in sentences that began with 'we', began reaching out to them, with his eyes, with his words, and sometimes even with his hands. It was everything they had hoped, everything they had been working towards.

Almost.

"He's still holding back, holding himself away from us," Spencer lamented, a desperate edge to his voice.

Jon shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "I know."

They were walking home from the grocery store; they'd needed eggs, cheese. Ryan was walking slightly ahead of Spencer and Jon. The December wind was making their cheeks burn. Ryan was wrapped in at least four different scarves but none of them were protecting his face. He was carrying a brown paper bag of groceries and a bouquet of blood red mini carnations. Officially they were for the kitchen table but really they were for Brendon. Ryan was actually incredibly interested in being romantic, when he thought he could get away with it.

Spencer sped up his strides to catch up to Ryan's natural advantage. He said, "Ryan," but Ryan only squinted against the wind.

It was starting to snow.

"Ryan, what are we going to do?" Jon asked, the same worried, lost tone Spencer had wanted to believe they were done using.

"He still thinks we're going to make him leave if he's not good enough. He still expects us to realize our mistake. To get tired of him," Spencer added, his voice getting more frantic by the word.

Jon began to repeat himself. "Ryan, what --"

Ryan suddenly stopped dead, and for a moment he looked wild. Spencer saw a flash of fury in Ryan's eyes, he was surprised Ryan didn't throw the load he was carrying to the ground.

"I. Don't. Know," he finally bit out, somewhere between angry and desolate.

Something different passed over Jon's face, not anger, maybe it was acceptance. Spencer wasn't ready to believe it was resignation. Jon shook his head. "You shouldn't have to. Jesus, Ryan, you've been amazing. We never would have gotten this far, never would have even known what we were trying to keep, not without you. But that doesn't - it shouldn't mean you have to figure everything out by yourself. It can't work that way, not if we're really all in this together."

Ryan's shoulders lifted in a deep, steadying breath. He looked at Spencer, who nodded gravely.

Spencer did the talking for both of them. "And we are."

\---

In the end, it was Jon who realized what they needed to do.

Brendon was gone again, but just for a class, he was coming back to them. He may still have been waiting for them to change their minds, to throw him out, but until they did, Brendon was staying. They'd achieved that much. It was something, but it wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly what Brendon deserved.

They were lying in bed, Ryan was in the middle, with his head on Jon's shoulder and his hand twined with Spencer's when Jon said, "We need to take him to the island."

There was a startled pause, and Ryan sat up, looking down at Jon with a mix of confusion and concern. "Jon, I know you really love it there and all, but you do know it's not actually like... magic, right?" There was a trace of genuine worry in his tone.

Because he was Jon, he managed not to roll his eyes. "I know that. Ryan," he smiled, "it was where I found you, where I found Spencer, but I know that. I do. I just think he needs to see it, needs to be there with us. We're trying to show him he's a part of our lives, right? That we want him to be? Wouldn't it help to show him he can be a part of all of that? Show him that he doesn't just get this one piece, but the whole thing?"

The silence that followed was of a completely different kind.

Ryan beat Spencer to Jon's lips, but it was only by a fraction of a move. When Ryan was done kissing Jon soundly, he backed off magnanimously and let Spencer have his turn. When they were done with him, Jon blinked at them, dazed and swollen lipped.

"Good idea?" he laughed faintly.

Spencer and Ryan beamed at him.

"Best idea."

\---

It was almost Christmas, so they decided to wait until then. Brendon had been making noise like he was looking forward to a quiet week, a break from studying to just hang out in his dorm alone, because his roommate was going home. No mention of going home himself. No mention of accompanying Ryan, Spencer and Jon back to the island to see their families.

They bought the tickets, and Spencer called his mother to confirm it would be alright for Brendon to stay with them, introducing the concept of him to her, shyly but with pride, as his boyfriend. His mother was giddy and high pitched about her delight. Spencer supposed his family had worried about him, the third wheel he had once been seen to be by the outside world. They arranged all the details first, checked and rechecked everything, all so they could be certain they weren't offering Brendon something they couldn't really commit to. Not making an offer that would have to be withdrawn later.

Once everything was certain, they gathered him up, each with a gentle hand holding a part of him. Ryan took his hand, Jon his shoulder, Spencer his knee.

"Brendon," they asked, solemn like the proposal it in so many ways was, "come home with us for Christmas."

Brendon tried unsuccessfully to blink the happiness away, and when he found he couldn't manage, when they were still sitting around him, wanting nothing more than to stay that way, he smiled wonderingly and said yes.

\---

Even on the plane, before their feet even hit the familiar ground, Spencer could see a change in Brendon. He sat between Jon and Ryan with a new confidence, like he belonged there. Like it was his right.

When they walked off the plane and were assaulted by the sea air and a myriad of relatives, Brendon inhaled deeply and spread open his arms.

 

 

 _Epilogue_

They spent most of the vacation walking, trailing after Jon while he took pictures and led them down unexpected paths, found beauty in broken fences and abandoned shopping carts. Brendon seemed most content just following wherever Jon wanted to go, quietly observing, collecting images. Spencer wondered if he was trying to imagine them in the places they went, only younger, and without him. They walked by Ryan's house, but didn't go in. As they passed though, Brendon set his jaw and laced his gloved hand with Ryan's. He held on until the house was far out of sight. They went to the ocean and walked along the frozen coast line, wrapped in coats and scarves, in each other. They didn't say much, but it was an easy quiet, peaceful. It was so familiar, all of it so much like they were simply retracing the steps of their youth that Spencer felt almost as if he had gone back in time.

He would have felt exactly like that, if it was not, of course, for one notable and extremely welcome exception. It wasn't just that it was different, having Brendon there with them for the first time. It was that he was different too.

The change that began on the plane seemed to settle into Brendon, deeper and deeper each day they were on the island. It was clear even when he was surrounded by Spencer's family, getting barraged with friendly questions and enticed to eat more food, but it was even stronger, even clearer when it was just the four of them alone.

He no longer hid the want in his eyes, no longer reached out only with hesitancy, with fear. He did so with happiness, with pride.

Their last day on the island was New Year's Day, and they went for one last walk along the beach, the icy patches of snow and sand crunching under their feet, arms hooked together in a row. Spencer and Jon were at opposite ends of the chain, keeping Ryan and Brendon secure between them.

They reached the end of the beach and stood looking out at the water until Ryan said, "Well, Bren, what do you think?"

Brendon tightened his hold on Ryan and Spencer, and smiled for all of them. "I think it's time to go home."

They smiled in return and followed his lead.


End file.
